Messages through Paper Planes
by Naty17
Summary: My entry for the Rainbow Colors Competition  details inside! . She was a German. He was a Jew. Both of their hourglasses are quickly losing sand, faster than they thought, but they manage to find peace within each other through planes before they leave.


**Messages through Paper Planes;**

**The red of the rainbow**

_So this is the color red of the Rainbow Colors competition! I'll explain the contest in more detail at the bottom, but for now, I really hope you enjoy this story! I worked really hard on it the first time- but then, I forgot to save… and the computer froze. I lost EVERYTHING, and was forced to start over._

_I don't think this will be as good as it was the first time, but hopefully, you'll still be able to enjoy it!_

_By the way, I made Vaughn and Chelsea both a bit younger then they look in the game. Chelsea is about 14, and Vaughn is only 15. Oh! And just a warning, it should switch PoVs a lot in Act 3._

* * *

><p><strong>Act 1:<br>****Prisoner**

* * *

><p>He sat in the corner of his cell, shivering. The rags that had once been clothes were not very useful when it came to providing warmth to his body.<p>

He was only 15, but he was far from the youngest prisoner there. There were others far younger than he.

You see, it was year 1943, and almost the entire planet earth was involved in a chaotic war, later known as World War 2.

The young silver-haired boy in cell n.1354 wasn't imprisoned for criminal acts, or because he had done anything wrong. He was just born into the wrong family. He was born Jew.

He watched as a guard approached the cell in which he was imprisoned through his silver locks of hair.

The guard slid a key in the lock, and a click was heard, before the guard opened the door. "Come on, kid." The guard said. "It's time for you to go get some exercise outside."

Vaughn stood up from the cold floor, and practically dragged himself to where the guard was standing. He glared at the man, then started walking towards the back entrance. The prisoner's exit.

He could run away, if he was brave enough. But then again, he would probably be killed in the process. He was well aware that the guard was still behind him.

But then again… he'd die either way. He'd been here for at least a year. His mother had been killed around 2 months ago. His father was killed at least two years ago. He would probably only be around for a few more weeks, if not, less.

He opened the thick metal door, and stepped out into the wide enclosed area that surrounded the prison.

The door shut behind him, and he just stood there, knowing he'd have to stay out there for another half hour, doing nothing.

Why didn't he just climb the metal fence, you may be wondering? He probably would; but he'd seen others try. It was then, when the people who had tried to climb over had fell over, dead, that he found out the Germans were a lot smarter then he thought. It wasn't just metal that surrounded the prison.

It was electric fences, powerful enough to kill someone at the slightest touch.

And so, he sat down in the dirt. He'd been there for about 5 minutes, when he suddenly noticed someone else's presence.

He looked up, and noticed a young girl his age standing on the other side of the fence.

She was of average height, with shoulder length brown hair. (1) There was a brown satchel across her top half.

She had on a dress that went down to her knees; its skirt was white with red flower print patterned onto it, and the top was very loose and free, and was a bright red. A red sash was wrapped around her torso, and she had on a red bandana.

Her cerulean blue eyes were fixed onto him.

He walked up to the fence (well… as close as he dared. He was brave, but not careless), and snapped at her. "Who are you?"

She looked surprised that he had spoken to her, but didn't seem to hear him.

"Who **are **you?" Vaughn repeated.

The girl frowned, realizing a problem that Vaughn couldn't quite understand. Suddenly, her face brightened up, and she reached into her satchel. She pulled out a small pencil case, a notebook, and some tape (2).

Vaughn didn't bother watching what she was doing. It didn't really interest him.

But suddenly, she started folding the paper. Now **that** caught his attention.

Her folding turned the regular sheet of paper into a paper airplane. She threw it upwards, and Vaughn watched it fly over the fence, and into the dirt a few steps away from him.

Curious, he picked it up, and unfolded it.

_Sorry, I can't hear you very well. Are you one of the Jewish prisoners?_

What, was this girl stupid?

There was a pen taped into the middle of the sheet. Vaughn took it off, throwing the tape pieces carelessly onto the ground.

_Of course I am. _He wrote. _If I wasn't, what would I be doing in here?  
><em>_And what are **you** even doing here in the first place?_

Then, he re-folded the paper, and sent it flying over the electric fence.

The girl ran over and picked up the paper. She read it quickly, then wrote down a reply underneath his. She then threw it back over to where he was.

_I'm sorry, I should've realized.  
>And my dad works here. He made me come, but he wouldn't let me go inside, so I'm waiting out here. It must be hard for you here, isn't it?<em>

Vaughn snorted in disgust. Just as he had thought; another German. Germans would only make everything worse. Just look at what they had done to his life, for example! (3)

_Yeah, you really should've.  
><em>_Of course it's **hard**! What do you expect? They're killing everyone I know and love! Not that you'd know what that was like. You're a **German**!  
><em>  
>Over the fence the paper plane went. When the girl read it, her expression turned a little sad. She wrote back anyway, and sent the plane flying back over.<p>

_I'm sorry… I can be a little dim sometimes._

_Even if I **am** German, it doesn't mean I haven't lost someone I love. My mother was killed last year by…I think it was the Russians? Even if the Germans were responsible for this war, that doesn't mean we aren't also suffering. _

Vaughn read the note, and was quick to reply.

_If you're all suffering so much, then why don't you end this freaking war? And I'll have to thank the Russians. Not that I'll be able to live long enough to do that. And besides, even if you were "suffering", you at least got to live. I'm stuck in a freaking jail cell!_

Over the fence the letter went. Then right back it came.

_I wish I could. It's all so stupid… But that's a mean thing to say. My mother was just as much against this as I am. And about you living in this jail? I think it's absolutely sick. I hate my dad for working here._

When Vaughn read her letter, his expression softened a bit. So she agreed with him? She was just as much against this war as he was?

… _Thank you…_

* * *

><p>It had continued like this for a while. The girl would be waiting on the other side of the fence for him everyday. They'd send each others messages by paper plane, and soon enough, Vaughn felt comforted by her presence, even if he could never get closer to her then from the other side of the fence.<p>

She was his only friend left.

Today, she waited for him, as usual, but this time, she looked sad.

She was wearing the exact same dress today as the one she wore on the first day they met, except this time, she also wore a big straw hat with a red ribbon around it on her head, covering her face.

Surprisingly, whenever Vaughn thought of her, he still referred to her as 'the girl'. He still hadn't asked for her name, and he had forgotten to every time she visited.

Vaughn walked up to the fence surrounding his temporary home. He chuckled softly when he noticed that, under the big hat, that girl was still wearing her favorite red bandana.

He loved her letters. Ever since she had entered his life, he longed for her. He actually felt there was a meaning, a reason to live now. He actually believed that, even though he would be forced to stay in those four white walls for the rest of his short life, he could be… somewhat… happy…

Until that day.

She looked up when she saw him, and threw her hazel brown bangs, he could see that there were tear stains on her cheeks.

He became suddenly worried. The girl never cried. Not in front of him at least. Never had he seen her spill tears. She was always smiling.

He knew she was a happy person, despite her hate for her father; he read and re-read the letters in those paper planes over and over again, until he managed to fall asleep. He had kept her letters.

From the brown satchel she always brought with her, the girl pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. She unfolded it, then made it into that familiar, yet easy to do piece of origami; a paper plane.

She threw it over the fence, and looked away, as if she were ashamed of herself.

Vaughn was still worried, but unfolded the plane, and read what she had sent him.

_I have to go. And I can't come back.  
><em>_I'm sorry._

He looked up from the paper in his hands in surprise. He could see another tear fall from her face onto the ground, even though she was turned away.

She glanced up at him once more, then turned away, and took a step in the other direction. She could only take one other, before he yelled out to her:

"**I'll be waiting for you!"**

He screamed it as loud as he could. He knew that if she couldn't hear what he had said when he asked who she was, she would probably only be able to hear him if he screamed.

And she did hear him, he could tell. She stopped, and shifted on her feet, as if she were going to turn back around. But all she did was take one last glance at him, with those sad cerulean blue eyes, and ran away.

It was her father's fault, wasn't it? Her father had found out, and had forbidden her to see him… that had to be it, didn't it? But even so…

I'll be waiting for you… and until you come back… I'll keep and treasure these letters… Then I can see you again someday… right?

* * *

><p><strong>Act 2:<br>****Chelsea**

* * *

><p>At some time, and at some place in this immiscible world (4), we met, and became close through just a paper folded into a plane.<p>

I slipped out of the hospital everyday, with a need to be free. I didn't know where to go, so I decided to follow papa to his work, because he had always forbid me. (5)

And sitting there, I suddenly saw the door open, and a boy with ragged clothes with silver hair stepped out of the prison in which my father worked.

He noticed me only after a few minutes of sitting in the dirt, and asked me a question, that I couldn't hear.

I couldn't hear as well as I used to, now.

So I wrote a message on a sheet of paper with a pen, taping another one in there, and folded it into a paper plane. I threw it over the fence, and he read it, and answered back. That was the only way we could communicate.

After a while, I couldn't read the letters without bright light. But you were only let out later. I was forced to only exchange one letter with you, before taking the one you had sent me, and bringing it home with me, back to the hospital, where I could read it.

Your letters warmed my heart, and made me blush. Was this what they call love?

But papa caught me. He read the letter, and realized what it meant almost immediately. He crumpled the letter. "The German are not supposed to befriend the Jews, Chelsea! You, out of all people should know that!"

I hated him even more than before for the words he said next. "I forbid you to see him." I couldn't understand why; wouldn't you want me to be happy?

I wasn't supposed to see him in the first place, but now that I had grown so close to this boy… this boy who's name I did not know… I couldn't forbid myself from seeing him. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep myself in the hospital bed, knowing he'd be there, waiting for me, a blue pen in his hand.

Your existence was meaningful enough to make me keep fighting for my life. There wasn't a moment where I wasn't thinking of you.

In this room where the sun wouldn't enter, and the only sound being the beeps of the monitors, I could practically feel my future slowly fading away…

The number of tubes being inserted in my body increases day by day. My body on its own isn't producing enough fluids for me to live on.

It's even harder to hear sounds than it was before. I can't even walk like I used to. My legs can't support my weight, and there's a risk of me collapsing any second now.

But still, I manage to rip the IV tubes from my arms and legs everyday, and get dressed so as to not appear before you in a hospital gown. That would worry you, wouldn't it?

I escape through the back door, same as always, and hobble in the direction of the Jewish prison. But on my way there…

I fall. I fall to the ground, and am unable to catch myself. I'm growing weaker, I realize, and it takes me a while to get back up. But even so, there's nothing else I can do. There's no way I can heal myself now. The cancer's gone too far to reverse.

I go to see you, as usual, then come back to the hospital. I slip back in through the back door again. Normally I pass unnoticed. But my father is walking past in the hall right in front of me. I stumble into the elevator beside me, but it's too late; I know he saw me.

* * *

><p>I'm back in my room now, waiting to get yelled at by my own father. Ready to get punished somehow.<p>

To make it worse, that was an employee's only elevator. Great.

The only thing with me here in this room is the beeps of the monitor, and my own thoughts.

I know that I shouldn't be going out still. If anything, it's making my condition even worse. I also know that… sooner or later, I'll be too weak to go visit you everyday. And instead of leaving you hanging, I might as well say my last goodbyes, shouldn't I…?

Since I'm obviously not going to make it out of here alive… I'll throw you my last paper plane, saying my apologies.

_I have to go. And I can't come back.  
><em>_I'm sorry._

* * *

><p>And because I didn't want you to feel worried about me… I ran away once more.<p>

I was so tired today… it took so much strength for me just to get dressed. As I was slipping on my favorite dress, I realized, this was the dress I wore the first time we met. It holds memories, doesn't it?

On the way to that prison in which you are forced to live, I fell again. But not just once; 3 times. 4, if you include the fall right when I arrived.

And that's when I realized how little time I had left to live.

You come out, and walk up to the cage, looking happy to see me, as always. Hopefully, you haven't noticed the tearstains on my face.

I take the note I had written the previous day out from my satchel, and fold it into the paper plane.

I throw it over the fence, but it nearly gets burned to pieces because of the electricity within the metal of the fence.

So this is the last paper plane I send you. The last letter, with love.

I shouldn't let you see my tears, so I turn away. I take a step, then wobble to take another, but even with my poor hearing, I could hear the silver-haired boy yell:

"**I'll be waiting for you!"**

I think of yelling something back to him. Maybe that he wouldn't be able to see me. Maybe that I was going to die any day now. Maybe I'd tell him that we were both destined to die from the beginning anyway.

Or maybe I'll tell you nothing. The less you know, the less painful it will be for you. I'm certain you wouldn't want me to die.

* * *

><p>The monitor is beeping slower and slower. There are nurses crowding themselves in my room. I can move nothing but my eyes, and I'm slowly losing my grip on the last plane you gave me.<p>

An oxygen mask is put onto my face. Without it, I wouldn't be able to breathe.

So this must be… the end?

* * *

><p><strong>Act 3:<br>****The Broken Hourglass**

* * *

><p>She's dying. My one and only daughter is dying.<p>

My one and only daughter Chelsea is dying, and these stupid nurses are trying to keep me out!

"You'll only make things worse for her!" an older one tells me.

"She needs me!" I yell back at her.

"No!" a younger nurse argues. "Right now, she needs the doctors! If you want her to live, then you're going to have to leave the room!"

* * *

><p>It was that stupid Jew's fault. The one that wrote letters to her all the time. If it weren't for him, she wouldn't have kept running away, and her condition wouldn't be so bad.<p>

That damn Jew boy would pay. I'd find him. I may not know which one he is yet, but whichever one has paper planes in his cell- that's the one I'm looking for.

* * *

><p>She's really gone now, isn't she? She wasn't back today. She really wasn't kidding.<p>

Life was different now without her. I guess you could say I grew depressed. Very depressed. I missed her like crazy.

I jumped when I heard the door to my cell open. There was a man standing in my cell, wearing a guard's uniform.

He had glasses, dirty blonde colored hair, and familiar blue eyes.

Two men came in behind him.

The first man took one of the letters from the corner behind me. "_I wish I could._" He read out loud. "_It's all so stupid… But that's a mean thing to say. My mother was just as much against this as I am. And about you living in this jail? I think it's absolutely sick. I hate my dad for working here._" He laughed.

"You know you're not supposed to have visitors here, right?" he said, with an evil smirk.

"Hey!" I yelled, as I jumped over, trying to get to where he was standing, but the two other guards held me back. "Give that back!"

"Oh, look!" the first guard said, sounding like he was having the time of his life, picking up another letter. "_You're the best friend I've ever had. I don't have many friends anymore. Some of them are dead, others just… don't want to be with me anymore. In fact… I think… I might… love you…_"

The guard laughed even harder this time, although it sounded purely evil. It didn't sound like he found this very funny at all. "You stupid boy…" the guard said, grabbing the paper tighter. "You know that her words don't mean anything, right? She didn't mean what she said. You're better off without all this."

**RIP!**

Pieces of paper flew down to the ground.

That was his favorite out of the letters she sent. It may have been short… but it was still important to him. These letters held the only memories he had left of her. And this man… destroyed them.

Without knowing what he was doing, Vaughn wrenched out of the other two guards' arms.

"Ah!"

A small yelp of shock was heard from the first guard as he was punched in the jaw. Blood dripped from the corners of the guards' mouth. His glasses had fallen off when he was hit, and Vaughn could finally see what was so familiar looking of the man;

His _cerulean_ blue eyes. The girl's cerulean eyes. They were the same.

There was a little blood on Vaughn's right fist, and he stared at it in disbelief. He really **had** punched the man. (6)

Suddenly, the two other guards were on him, pinning him to the ground, as the first one got back up, and regained his senses. Through gritted teeth, he said the two words that would cost the boy his life: "He's. Next."

* * *

><p>"It's too far, doctor. She's not going to survive."<p>

"It's never too late."

"Yes, it is! Look at her! She's getting closer to dying every second!"

There was a small silence while they looked over to me. I could barely open my eyes anymore, and it was starting to hurt to breathe.

"She should've had her blood tested a long time ago. Then we would've been able to have a bigger chance to stop the cancer."

"But she didn't, doctor. Now she's going to die. You can't stop it."

"Maybe I can't… but I can try."

* * *

><p>The hourglass was running out of sand. They both knew their lives were going to end soon. Both knew that they're hourglass had less sand than the others. And now… they were going to have to wait until that last grain of sand fell. Then perhaps they'd be able to be happy.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Act 4:<br>****The End**

* * *

><p>Sitting in four white walls was a boy with silver hair. He was destined to die, not because he had done something wrong, but because of who he was; a Jew.<p>

The only thing that kept him from going crazy were a few paper planes.

But now, the only thing that used to keep him sane were those paper planes. They were gone now.

He was going to die very soon now. The room was already running out of oxygen, and being replaced with gas. Sooner or later, he'd run out of air in his lungs, and would collapse, never to move again.

He suffered the same fate as his mother did, but somehow, he felt even worse than she did. For his only regret was…

… that he never got to ask her name…

* * *

><p>A few months have passed since then.<br>They managed to keep me from dying.

But I can't move at all, so it feels like I'm already dead.  
>The last moment will hopefully come soon.<p>

When I said goodbye to you… I shouldn't have pretended to be strong…

It's too late for me now… but somehow… I want to see you still smiling, somewhere…

I want to see you… just one more time… That is my last wish.

* * *

><p>The father visited the room his daughter occupied at the hospital.<p>

He knew her time would come soon. He knew that sooner then later, he would be all alone.

He didn't want it to happen, but it had to be.

She looked like she was in pain. Perhaps it was physically. But most likely it was emotionally.

He took off his glasses to wipe at some tears in the corners of his eyes. He had caused her this pain, hadn't he?

The doctors had saved her, and kept her alive 'til now, but they couldn't keep her really alive. Even he knew that this Chelsea wasn't his Chelsea; it was just her body. Her soul was somewhere else, fighting between life and death.

This thought made him drop his glasses, as he clutched his heart. He had caused her so much pain… as if she weren't already in enough.

With a choked sob, he bent down to pick up his glasses, which now had one broken lens. But he stopped, as he saw, under the hospital bed, a simple piece of origami: a paper plane.

She had dropped it, as she grew weaker.

He picked it up, and took his only daughter's hand, placing it in her palm, and helping her hold onto it. He pressed it against her heart, and he noted that, for the first time since her miraculous "saving" from her cancer, she was smiling.

Even though her blood was filled with cancerous cells, she could smile, with only a paper plane left with her.

The only sounds in the room were the muffled sobs of a remorseful father, and the beeps of the monitor, counting her heart beats.

"Beep… beep… beep… Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep…"

* * *

><p><em>Aw… my eyes were watery while I wrote this… I'm way too sensitive for my own good… But it was so sad!<em>

_Too clear things up, that last long beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep at the end was because Chelsea's heart stopped beating. So yes, she died._

_Vaughn was put into a gas chamber, which was how they killed the Jew during World War II. They replaced the air with gasses, and slowly, the victim would run out of oxygen, and die.  
><em>_So, basically… they both died. But the dad survived. Just in case you were wondering. The dad didn't commit suicide or anything after._

_And, yes, Chelsea's dad and the guard Vaughn punched in Act 3 are the same person._

_So, now, to explain the competition. This little contest is called 'The Rainbow Colors Competition'. Yes, how original…  
><em>_Anyway, 7 people, including myself, had to make a oneshot based on a certain color of the rainbow, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, or Black. Since Indigo is considered a shade of blue, it has been replaced by black._

_So, with our color, we have to write a story based on the theme. So, my theme was red, and the redness in my story was Chelsea's red bandana, and her condition. I made it that Chelsea had blood cancer, if you didn't get that. I know it was all a little confusing, sorry!_

_So, we all have to post our stories on the same day (November 3rd), and whoever gets the most reviews and other bonus points at the end (deadline is December 3rd, BTW!) is the winner. Wish me luck!_

_Here are the other contestants and their color:_

_Red – Naty17 (me!)_

_Orange – floridapanther28_

_Yellow – wipe-your-tears_

_Green – floopyrocks_

_Blue – Penny ToughGirl_

_Purple – MagicalSquaresofDarkness_

_Black – Lollipopdiego_

_Oh! And check out the forum I made for this contests/more contests coming! There isn't that much on yet… but hopefully, this new forum will become as popular as The Village Square, or something! _

_It's called The Writer's Block. Here's the link: _http:/ /forum. fanfiction .net/forum/ The_Writers_Block/99598/ (delete the spaces)

_Anywho, please review to give me points to lead your favorite author to victory! (I'm just kidding… ^.^") Thank you!_

_.o0o._

_(1) Normally, people describe Chelsea's hair as being down to the middle of her back. But, since Chelsea is a lot younger then people often make her (the youngest I've seen her was 16 or 17), her hair is only down to her shoulders._

_(2) I'm not sure if there actually were pens or tape in 1943, but I'm too lazy to check, so… bear with me._

_(3) I don't mean to insult the German, OR the Jewish. Considering I myself am actually both of them._

_(4) Big word, huh? Don't worry; I have no idea what it means either. Heh heh heh…_

_(5) I'm feeling really singy and poetic right now, which may explain the rhymes here and there._

_(6) Well, DUH! Vaughn's having a small blond moment… even though he's not blond… Heh, I said that exact line about myself in the middle of my art class! Hahaha, it's a long story…_


End file.
